It's In His Kiss
by MuffyLooWho
Summary: Each one was different. Each one was special. And each one showed just what she meant to them.
1. Roald

**I decided, after much debate with myself, to remove this as a second chapter from my story No Regrets and create a whole new story line. The lovely review from Margarita Rosa on No Regrets helped me make this final decision. I hope everyone enjoys these little ficlets as I write them, and feel free to suggest who should come next.**

**I wish I did own these characters.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>She still finds it a bit startling when she thinks back on it, although she has at last accepted the sentiment.<p>

It had been the night before the royal wedding, and everyone had been stopping by the prince's rooms to wish him well or give advice. She herself had been running later than she'd meant to be, as she'd spent most of the early evening with the Yamani princess. By the time she'd reached Roald's rooms, only Neal and his highness were there.

Not wishing to tire him out the night before his wedding, she had made to give her regards and leave when he had stopped her. Shyly, he had asked if she would go over some of the Yamani customs and aspects that had been included in the ceremony. She had readily agreed, knowing his true need had been support from his friends rather than an explanation of customs. She had walked him through them, Neal as well, until the time had made her call a halt. It would have done no good for her to teach him this, she'd told him, if he was too tired to go through with it.

He'd reluctantly agreed, and she and Neal had begun to make their way out. She had just gotten to the door when she'd felt a hand on her arm. Neal had paused at her own sudden stop, but upon seeing the prince's hand on her arm, had merely winked at her and had gone on his way. She'd turned to look up at Roald, had noticed a strange light in his eyes. She'd opened her mouth, but before she had gotten the question out, she'd felt the prince's lips on hers.

The kiss had been gentle, not invasive even as it had been lingering. Long seconds had passed before his lips had left hers, and he'd pulled her close then, his breath on her cheek.

Thank you, Kel, he'd said quietly. If you hadn't taught me to love you first, I'd never learn to love Shinko.

Neal's only comment on the whole situation had been an inquiry as to why it had taken his highness so long.


	2. Faleron

**Disclaimer: Really, do I really need to say it?**

* * *

><p>She remembers it fondly when she sees him, the sneaky way he led up to it. It was sweet, if unexpected, and it still makes her shake her head in amusement when she recalls.<p>

She'd been walking past the stables when she saw him inside, pacing and muttering to himself. She'd approached cautiously, wondering if she should just leave him alone, yet unable to ignore a friend in need. She'd said his name, not loudly, but enough that he'd startled, whirling around with wide eyes until he'd seen her standing there.

A light blush had crept up his handsome face as he'd stammered a hello. She'd smiled and had stepped closer, asking what was wrong, if she could help.

He'd been quiet for a while, and she'd almost been ready to turn and leave him alone when he's spoken softly. There was a girl he'd been thinking about, a noble lady. She was kind, good, brave, and he'd become enamored. He'd known it wasn't love, that nothing would come of it, but until it died down, he'd be in silent torment. He'd convinced himself all it would take was a kiss. One kiss as perfect as he'd imagined, and he'd be able to get her out of his system once and for all.

Kel had listened silently until the end, when he'd looked at her in a silent appeal for advice. She'd thought for a bit before offering her say. Did he think the lady would be receptive to a light flirtation, she'd asked. As long as things were kept shallow, no promises made. She'd seen many noblemen who'd been promised in marriage from children do just that until they married. Not, she'd added sternly, that she would approve or tolerate him leading a lady on. But surely it would allow him to indulge in certain liberties. Kel knew first hand that people kissed many people before they married.

The next confession had shocked her, snapping her mask in place quickly. He'd never before kissed anyone. After that, he'd shocked the mask right off. Could, he'd hesitated. Could he kiss her, his first kiss, so he wouldn't be nervous. She'd nodded and shook her head at the same time, not truly sure what she was agreeing or not agreeing to. He'd looked at her through his lashes, shyly, and had leaned down.

His lips had been soft, warm, his breath sweet. He'd started with a light, feathery brush that had become bolder, harder. His hands had wrapped around her biceps, roughly pulling her closer to him. She'd been caught off guard, and in that one moment of off balance, he'd conquered her. She'd surrendered as he became more confident, more sure. Then, he'd eased up, slowly, lightly pulling back and eventually away.

There had been no shyness or uncertainty in his gaze then, a pleasant confident smirk in place. I think it's starting to work out of my system now, he'd said. Thank you. He'd walked to the door, pausing just before he stepped outside. Better than I'd imagined, he'd called back to her.

Still dazed, it wasn't until later, as she'd been relaying the incident to Neal that she realized he was the reason that she'd even been walking by the stables in the first place.


	3. Owen

**I know it's been a while since I updated, but I've been traveling through space and time, from Illea to Panem to New Beijing, then Ile de Sein and Arquitaine, before making it back to Tortall. Still, when I did come back, this character was all excited to tell me his story, and now I'm giving it to you.**

**Disclaimer: Yadda yadda yadda, you know the drill...  
><strong>

* * *

><p>She doesn't think it was truly planned. It was one of those things that just happens, spontaneously. Still, with him you could never be truly sure… and she sometimes wonders…<p>

She had watched with nervous anticipation as the door to the Chamber had opened, a very shaken Owen of Jesslaw emerging, exhausted but unharmed. Though he had grinned tiredly in her direction, they'd not gotten a chance to speak before he'd been whisked away to prepare for his knighting ceremony. A wave of pride had arisen in her at the sight of her friend, and she had smiled as she and Neal continued back to their rooms.

Later, she had stood with her friends as they watched Owen take the Oath of Knighthood and receive his shield. He had then come straight over to their group, smiling wide and overflowing with joy.

Guess the Chamber's going soft if it has started letting pipsqueaks like you out, Neal had said, the smile and arm thrown around him showing the joke of his words.

It was already going mad, Owen had replied, since it let you come out. The group had laughed then, especially at Neal's good natured surprise at Owen's retort.

So, you've joined the lovely ranks of border patrols, grand tours and outlaw raids. Such is the life of a knight in peace times, Merric had remarked.

Yeah, Seaver had added. Not many thrilling stories to woo the ladies with nowadays.

That's alright, Owen had said jovially. I know just what kind of knight I want to be.

And what type is that? Faleron had asked.

One like Kel. A hero.

A hero, Kel had blurted out, surprised. But Owen, I'm not… But before she could say anymore, he'd bounced up to her and smashed his mouth against hers. It hadn't been a long kiss, although no one could have exactly called it short, either. And had that been a swipe of tongue at the end? She had stood stock still, her Yamani mask firmly in place to hide the shock that was reflected on the faces of the rest of the group. Owen had bounced back as she stared, happiness and enthusiasm rolling off of him in waves.

Thank you, Kel, he'd said. Thank you for showing me how even everyday knights can be heroes.

Later, after Neal had finished splitting his sides in laughter, he'd drawled to the rest of the group that he had to admire the pipsqueak's style.


	4. Wyldon

**I had every intention of doing a chapter with Merric next, but then I heard Katey Sagal's cover of the song ****_To Sir, With Love._**** This story came from that, and I hope you enjoy it. As always, I do not own the characters, just the situations I put them in.**

* * *

><p>She always appreciated the gifts he gave her. They were nothing material, nothing tangible. But they were just as real and just as precious as anything else. And now, she's beginning to understand the gift she gave him, as well.<p>

He had been sitting at his desk, going over reports and building a list of desperately needed supplies. It had been well past the midnight call, and she'd been restlessly roaming the halls when she'd seen his light through the partially opened door. Having wanted something, anything, to occupy her mind, even if it was simply dry paperwork, she'd knocked on the door as she'd stepped into the room.

He'd been in his dressing robes, but then again, she'd been in her nightgown. The conservatives would have had fits if they'd seen or known, but neither Lord nor Knight had paid their attire any heed. She'd asked if he needed any help, and he, having seen the light of tedium induced madness starting in her eyes, had told her to pull up her chair.

They'd worked steady, mostly silent, the only sounds that had broken the stillness had been quick, brief questions and answers concerning the reports at hand. The hours had passed by without notice, until they both had blinked in surprise at the dawn peeking into the windows. He'd turned back to her, then, a look of gratitude and something undefined on his face.

They'd both stood, acknowledging in wordless communication that it would not do her reputation, such as it was, nor his any good should they be found together in their night clothes. She'd gathered the papers she's finished, placed them neatly on the corner of his desk, and had turned to leave. Something, however, had made her linger briefly by the door.

He'd said her name, softly. So softly, she'd thought it was merely her own imagination. She'd turned back to him, a question in her eyes. Thank you, he'd said gruffly as he'd strode over to her. She'd been about to reply, to mention that there was no need for thanks from him, when she'd seen that his thanks was for so much more than just paperwork. She'd smiled at him, and had simply replied with a negative, returning the sentiment to him instead.

Keladry, he'd whispered again, and then, without either of them truly expecting it, he'd leaned in, his lips gently pressing into the flesh just between lips and cheek. It was so much more than the kiss of a father figure, of a teacher, of a friend. Yet, there was no sordidness, no wild passion. It was tender, sweet, a kiss from a man to a woman who was not a lover but so much more than merely a friend or daughter-figure. They'd stepped back at the same time, the multitude of things unsaid between them finally acknowledged, yet still mute.

They'd looked at each other a long time before the sounds of the camp awakening had caused her to turn and leave. She'd not been surprised by the events, nor even unnerved. In fact, she'd felt relieved to know that now, they truly understood each other.

A few weeks later, she'd revealed the incident to Neal in a late night heart to heart. He'd looked off into space for a bit, and finally made a cryptic observation which he refused to explain farther: In another time, in another place, there would have been a Lady Keladry of Cavall.


	5. Merric

**Merry Christmas Eve, everyone. I'm of mixed feelings about this chapter, but I wanted to post it for the holidays. Of course, it could just be me nitpicking myself. Either way, you will probably see a few "updates" that will be me editing and tweaking the story for this. Let me know what you think.**

**Insert standard disclaimer here.**

* * *

><p>She supposes that it shouldn't really have caught her off guard. Even <em>if<em> she was usually oblivious to such things, it was rather obvious. But, it had left her a bit stunned, and even now, she's not really sure what to think about it.

The men were gone, three or four of the camps convicts turned soldiers had last been seen heading into enemy territory. Many tried to claim they'd turned traitor. Others figured they just ran when they found out the camp was to be targeted. But Keladry, and a select few, knew that these men were going after the enemy before the enemy could come after them. And three or four against hundreds were not good odds.

She'd tried to be sneaky, but that had never been her strong suit. He'd met her on the walls as she scouted out which gate she could leave through that would hide her from view of the camp guards and put her on the side of the enemy. She had hoped to catch up with the convicts and turn them around before the events could reach the notice of higher authorities. She did not want these men punished for good intentions carried out in not so smart ways.

He'd stood beside her, casually scanning the same expanse she was. Then he'd turned to her and said one simple word. No.

She'd looked at him then, trying to determine what her reaction would be. Btu he'd just looked down at her and repeated. No.

When she'd silently turned around to walk away, he'd grabbed her arm. I mean it, Kel. That's the enemy out there. And they're convicts. Convicts! You cannot… I will not let you do this, if I have to tie you up myself to keep you here.

These are my men, Merric, she'd replied. They are on a suicide mission, and I can't let them do this.

And it's a suicide mission to do what you're planning. You can't go in there alone to look for them.

She'd looked up at him then, no words to express her feelings, her Mask betraying nothing. But he'd looked into her eyes, searching as only one who knew her well could do. And he saw her determination was rock solid.

With a soft, desperate sort of cry, he'd crushed her towards him, his lips on hers. There was brief passion, even desperation, but encompassing it all had been anger. Anger at her for being so stubborn. Anger at himself for not being able to do as he'd threatened. Anger at the war that had put them in this position. And that anger was born of fear. Fear that his dear friend, his dear Lady Knight, would foolishly get herself killed because her sense of honor was so much stronger than his. It was rough, it was messy, and it conveyed all that in mere seconds.

He'd released her abruptly, pushing her slightly away from him. You're determined to do this, he'd said It had not been a question. He'd turned and stalked away, tossing over his shoulder the statement that he and his men would be waiting at the gate for her. His tone allowed for no argument.

Later, after the convict soldiers had been successfully retrieved (there had been six total), she'd told Neal what had transpired on the wall. You truly have no idea just how devoted to you your friends are, do you? He'd snickered as he'd asked. You'd think by now, dear girl, you'd have some clue. He'd winked at her and walked away, leaving her to wonder just what he meant.


End file.
